Picnic
by Frisky Wallabee
Summary: Written to stave off writer's block. Totally random. And a K fic from me. O.O


**A/N:** I really just had to get this crack-fic out. I mean, all of this inspiration just fish-slapped me in the face and I had to react. I think I may actually be smitten for this fic. Oh well, I've had a good run.

--

It was the wee hours of the morning, the sun having not yet bleached the sky like the clean white linen the boys in the lodging house slept curled in that night. It was a time where visions of showgirls and—for most—their fellow newsboys danced in their heads. It was a time where, if you listened close enough, you could hear the strains of morning music playing in the air. It was most definitely not time to be up and at them, bleary-eyed and tired. And it was certainly not the time to be _dressed_. Yet, the twenty or more assorted newsboys gathered in the lobby area of the lodging house, getting ready to do the most awful thing ever thought up by those above them. They were going on a picnic.

"To a lake?" Blink asked. "Aren't there, you know, monsters in there? Like I read this story about this thing in Scotland that was just walkin' around the lake like it owned the place. Or crawling or whatever monsters do."

Weasel who was immensely displeased to be overseeing said picnic chose to ignore him. As did the rest of the still half-asleep boys.

"Who in their right mind is up at this time?" Skittery moaned.

Like Blink, he too was ignored.

"It'll be fun," Weasel said through gritted teeth. "Now all of you, into the carriage."

"We can't all fit in there," Bumlets pointed out.

The look on Weasel's face made him shut his mouth and decide that they all _could_ fit in said carriage.

"I hate my life," Oscar bemoaned. "I'm not even getting _paid_. Wait, Morris, _are_ we getting paid?"

Morris, who had been asleep since they arrived, just grunted and rolled over proving that whether asleep or awake, he was dead weight.

"Shut up," Weasel smacked him in the back of the head. "It'll be _fun_."

As Jack and Race rounded out the end of the line to pile into the carriage, they exchanged a quirked eyebrow look.

"Race," Jack tightened his bandana. "As our resident gambler, what are the odds that this trip will end in us screaming and running away from the lake as fast as our legs can carry us?"

Race tapped his lower lip with one finger. "Cowboy, I think it's safe to say simply…very likely."

--

Weasel looked at the gorgeous lake. The blue expanse of water was calm and mirrored while green grass rolled on the slight hill. The sun was shining and beaming down.

"So nice," he mused.

Then he lowered the flier to take in the destruction around him.

"Why can't it be like that!" he screamed.

Needless to say, the entire hillside was not tranquil and lovely and the lake wasn't reflective as a mirror. It was splashingly violent as Blink stomped up and down to try and scare away any monsters while Mush laid bear traps around the water's edge. Where they had gotten a hold of bear traps was unbeknownst to anyone and, frankly, no one wanted to ask. Snipeshooter and Itey had done _something_ to anger Oscar—which probably involved accidentally treading within three feet of his personal space—and he was currently chasing them around with an axe. Like the bear traps, no one asked how he got it. Racetrack had commandeered all of the deer in the surrounding area and was holding a race on the far end of the hill while taking food money from the younger newsboys to bet on the deer. Jack had decided that it was the perfect time to get in touch with his wild roots and was currently running around the lake wearing his bandana…and nothing else. The rest were engaged in random acts of throwing each other in the water and having pinecone fights. Morris snored and rolled over again.

"Boys," Weasel was getting impatient and mentally vowing to kill Pulitzer, Seiks and all those other bigwigs at _The World_. "Boys."

No one was listening.

"Boys."

The shouts were getting louder.

"HEY, ALL OF YOU CALM YOUR LITTLE ASSES DOWN AND LISTEN!" he screamed.

Immediately they all quieted. Then they turned in unison, glaring him down.

"Eep."

--

"Uh, boys," Weasel said meekly. "When I yelled at you all, it was out of love."

He was currently tied to a cut-down tree that the boys had stuck into the ground. The boys were dancing around him, barely clothed and covered in war paint, letting out whoops and cheers.

"Round one talk too much!" Skittery shouted, winging a tomahawk at his head.

"No Jump Over Leg," Mush grabbed his arm. "We must wait for Chief Boy of Cows."

Skittery nodded and the two went back to jumping up and down.

"Boys," Weasel tried again.

"We no talk to you," Blink shouted. "We let Chief Boy of Cows do it."

"…It's Kelly isn't it?"

Sure enough, Bumlets and Swifty moved aside and Jack marched through wearing a feather headdress from who knows where. He marched towards him with his arms crossed over his bare chest.

"Yeah, saw this coming."

"Silence Round One!" Jack boomed. "Spins on Fans, silence him."

Bumlets picked up his discarded shirt and quickly stuffed it into Weasel's mouth.

"Mmfrgrof!" he called.

"Chief Boys of Cows," Mush said. "He of All Seeing Eye is bored. We should go."

Jack tapped his lower lip. "Let us go!"

The boys all let out wild war whoops and ran away from the field. Weasel could hear the horse neigh as the carriage peeled away.

"So…" Oscar said, chopping down the tree in the ground. "Can I get paid now?"

Weasel could only glare at him. Then Morris got up and stretched.

"Hey," he yawned. "What'd I miss?"


End file.
